


Fallout: Miss Pauling

by paintpaw



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s), Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpaw/pseuds/paintpaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nuclear war was Gray Mann’s next plan of action. To strike the entire world so hard that’d they’d never recover enough to face him ever again. But he makes one fatal mistake: he doesn’t check to see if everyone had died. </p><p>Miss Pauling, direct and personal assistant to Gray Mann’s immortal enemy, emerges 200 years late to a war that her mercs lost. But 200 years was a long enough holiday for Miss P. Now she’s back in business, ready serve this brave new world and find out just what happened while she was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well if you don't know already, I did start another Fallout/Tf2 fic but it's probably getting scrapped. I'm starting again, this time with Miss Pauling as our protag! Hooray!
> 
> Thank you

A gentle click-clack of heels echoed down the empty grey hallway. Miss Pauling had seen nothing but tinted windows and locked doors on her way down here and at each one she had spared a glance, only to be greeted by her own reflection.

At the end of the corridor she was met with a steel door, identical to the ones she had passed. She stopped and patted down her skirt.

“As I said,” A voice crackled out of a speaker, “These vaults are of Dell Conagher’s design. They will withstand a robot invasion with ease. Though why he wants to use them to protect the public I will never know.”

It was true. The vault door alone could withstand a tank, if Gray could even get a tank this deep underground. Miss Pauling had felt her ears pop in the elevator down.

The steel door slid open with a hiss and Miss Pauling was allowed to continue.

“Of course, this is my vault, Miss Pauling. No members of the public are permitted to be down here and any that end up here will be disposed of. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

Miss Pauling noticed a change in her scenery: yellow and silver pipes followed her route overhead. Shortly after, she stopped by another door.

“Now,” The voice said as the door slipped open. “Before you go any deeper into the vault, you’ll be decontaminated and depressurized.”

The new room was not a corridor. Instead, Miss Pauling found herself in a box-like room. Above her, the silver and yellow pipes married with a reflective silver dome, more pipes fanned out and led to some kind of pod. The assistant approached the pod with no hesitation.

“Bidwell will meet you deeper in the vault. And Miss Pauling?”

Pauling took her seat in the pod, “Yes, Administrator?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

The pod door slid shut. Miss Pauling felt a cold rush, like a draft, blow over her head. A hissing noise filled her tiny space. The only other sound she could hear was her own breathing, she only began to worry when she could see it as well.

“5… 4… 3… 2…”

Miss Pauling’s world turned white before fading to black.


	2. Tough Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, enjoy!

Miss Pauling gasped for air. She shook violently as the machine hissed and crackled around her. She coughed and hacked, like the air around her couldn’t move to her lungs. When the pod door swung open, Miss P all but threw herself out. She shuddered on her hands and knees, choking, her body struggling to return to room temperature.

“Administrator? Is it over?” She called out through ragged breaths.

An alarmed blared in the distance. There was no response. Miss Pauling looked up.

“Administrator?”

The room was silent save for the hissing of the pod Pauling had escaped from. Pauling lent back into a kneeling position before rising to her feet; she hugged herself for warmth.

The Administrator was not there.

But Miss Pauling was used to her boss abandoning her, it was expected, there were greater things to be taken care of. Pauling brushed herself down to compose herself and, after finding that her only exit was also the way in, headed for the steel door. _Bidwell should be around_ , Miss P thought, _That’s what she said_.

What Miss Pauling wasn’t expecting was the dim and rusted hallway before her. The smell of ozone filled the assistant's lungs, she could hear liquid drip from the pipes above her head while the fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered noisily.

Miss Pauling felt herself shiver for an entirely different reason.

Had she moved? This wasn’t the way she’d came in, she would have felt or at least heard a teleportation device.

Hesitantly, Miss Pauling stepped into the hallway. She instinctively readied one hand to grab her gun, only to remember that she'd put it away in the vault’s lockers. The _click-clack_ of heels sounded far less confident than it had minutes ago, but Miss Pauling willed herself to keep walking. This was the Administrator’s vault after all, nothing dangerous could make it’s way in. Miss Pauling was just being... Cautious. The Administrator would be most disappointed to find that her prized assistant had died within her own vault.

Before she knew it, Miss Pauling was at the next door. She reached out to disengage the lock but was met with an angry buzz.

“What?” Pauling said.

She tried again and found the same results, the door was locked.

With a huff, Miss Pauling turned back to the corridor. The flickering lights and dirty walls becoming less imposing and more of an annoyance. She tried the door to her left to no avail, but the door to her right slid open with a hiss.

The lights blinked to life as she stepped inside.

At any other time, Pauling would have loved to sort through this room. With desks and tables covered in files and radio equipment, devices that would tap phones and intercept calls, fake letters and forged signatures galore. But right now, all Miss Pauling wanted was a way out.

And that she found. Something that would lead to the room behind the locked door: an air vent.

With the help of a metal chair and a screwdriver (found in a desk draw), the vent was separated from its duct. Then, being thankful for her size, Miss Pauling hefted herself into the ductwork.

It was dustier than she’d expected. This vault was new unless Dell had created an air vent that sucked in dust. However that was meant to help, Dell was no fan of over complications.

Thankfully, the next room was not far away. Just a twist and a turn. The next grate came away with ease, three of the four corners had rusted away, leaving the vent brittle. Dell had clearly been slacking. No amount of stress could excuse this, she would be having words with him as soon as this was over.

As she jumped down into the next room, the lights switched on automatically. She dusted down the grey stains on her purple shirt and made to the exit. She weaved between crates and shelves and stepped out into the previously locked hall.

Pauling gasped when she glanced at the offending door. Slumped against it, dust covered and fully clothed, was a skeleton.

Dell must have been really slacking on these vaults if an intruder had made it this far in before being killed. But why destroy their identity only to put their clothes back on?

As Miss Pauling got closer she began to notice details about the skeleton. For one it still had wisps of skin and hair stuck to its skull, Pauling knew that an acid bath would have removed that. Another thing was the foul stench of rot. Then there was the note screwed up in the skeleton’s fist.

Pauling crouched to pull the note free, wrinkling her nose at the rank smell and straightening the paper out. She recognised the hasty scrawl immediately.

“Bidwell?” She sighed, “Bidwell, is this meant to be some kind of test?” She called out into the empty hallway.

“I know you _think_ you’re more experienced but trust me, you’ve _never_ worked for somebody like the Administrator.”

She inspected the skeleton again and smirked. “You must have gotten this thing from Medic, right? Is it the infamous one?...No, he wouldn’t let you borrow that… _Still_ don’t know a patient would wake up after that.”

Miss Pauling sniffed, then read the note.

_Pauling.. Admin is.. Danger.. Run._

The writing was badly faded, like the author hadn’t pressed the pen down hard enough, had then rubbed something wet on it. Some words were missing.

“The Administrator’s in danger?!” When the thought clicked into Miss Pauling’s head, all theories of the skeleton left her. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Miss Pauling leapt to her feet and swept down the hall. She was forced to use the same trick as before to get out of the hallway, but she’d crawl through a million air vents to save the Administrator.

_Was it Gray Mann? Had he found where she’d been hiding? Is that why Her voice was gone?_

Something niggled in the back of Miss Pauling’s head. Like she was missing something. It was a feeling she’d learnt to never ignore.

Pauling stopped. She looked over the dust and grime, the rust and the leaky pipes. In a corner was a security camera, it’s blue light bore into her. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms again.

“Bidwell, if this is some kind of prank, it’s not funny.” She hissed at the camera.

 _Engineer could have been working on this place for a long time and he’s always busy._ Pauling’s sense of reason told her, _That machine moved and Engie hasn’t gotten around to fixing this place up yet._

_Then what’s with the body?_

Miss Pauling took a deep breath, counted to ten, then released it. The Administrator was in danger. There was no time for standing around, she had to find a way out.

The Administrator's assistant marched herself down the last hall.  

At the end she found a stairwell and a lift, identical to the one she’d used to get down into the vault. After a moment’s debate, she took the lift. She trusted that Engineer had at least kept that in shape, the stairs would take too long.

Thankfully, the only broken thing inside the elevator was the floor indicator. Miss Pauling’s stomach lurched as she and the car climbed the floors. With a pleasant _ding_ the doors eased open. Miss Pauling stepped into an all too familiar room: the locker room.

But the vault’s locker room was not how she’d remembered it. It was darker with only the emergency light active. The pristine locker doors had lost their metallic shine, they barely glinted at all in the low light.

Pauling approached the set of lockers, one door was firmly closed. She knew she’d put her revolver in that exact place, behind a much cleaner door. She ripped it open like she was tearing off a band-aid.   

She’d never been so sad to see that gun.

Gray Mann must have hit, she knew it now. He’d gone after the Administrator and tried to break into the deepest parts of this vault. The robots had gone and made it all like this. Or maybe Engineer had finally worked on the gun that would rust the robot’s joints and he’d used that down here. Or maybe…

Miss Pauling deflated. Theories would do nothing to help the Administrator, she needed answers.

Even though she’d only passed through the vault once, Miss Pauling could remember seeing a computer, a terminal in a bigger room. A room like the Administrator’s, lined with monitors. And if the room was anything like the Administrator’s, it’d have cameras, and cameras normally meant answers.

***

The room was not like the Administrator’s.

The Administrator’s room glowed with electricity, blue light cast dark shadows in every part of it. It buzzed with power. It smelt strongly of the world’s most expensive tobacco. You could feel Her presence in it before you even saw Her, sitting up straight on her tall leather chair.

This room was not like the Administrator’s.

This room was drab and dusty. Everything was a dirty grey, even the monitors. Almost all of them were shattered, the keyboards and input sockets had been mangled as if someone had taken a baseball bat to them. The only terminal that was still active poured a green light onto the skeleton seated at the desk. This one was the exact same as the last, except wearing a trenchcoat and had a tv screen strapped to its chest.

Miss Pauling rolled the seat and the skeleton aside with a hint of remorse. The wheels squeaked as she pushed the body away. She turned towards the monitors in silence.

The terminal was as low tech as everyone else’s household computer. It showed only a few lines of text green and absolutely no images. Somebody else had signed in. There were only three files available. She read them.

“ _I don’t know why the Administrator wants to have her most useful asset down here but it doesn’t matter, I don’t call the shots. It just seems dangerous_.”

Most useful asset? Was this about... her?

The sadness in Miss Pauling’s chest was replaced with a swell of pride.

The next file was quick to extinguish it.

“ _It’s been a few days now and the mercs have already missed her, they’ve kept quiet though. They’re just silently mourning, I think we all are. But they know if they make a peep they’re be joining her_.”

Miss Pauling read the lines over and over. Missed? Mourning? Joining her? That wasn’t right. And a few days? She’d left the mercenaries for longer than a few days before, it was nothing new. She was a busy woman after all. They wouldn’t assume her dead. Well, Scout might, if she didn’t answer his calls.

Miss Pauling shuddered again when a single question popped into her head.

‘ _How long have I been gone?_ ’

She glanced at the skeleton, her mind scrambling to remember how long a body took to become bones. 10 years was it? No, she refused to have been gone that long.

In frustration, Miss Pauling closed the file. There was only one left, she forced herself to open it.

“ _It’s over, it’s all over. I’m sorry, I tried my best but I know that I have failed you. God forgive me_.”

Miss Pauling stared at the skeleton again. She looked deep into its hollow eyes, expecting to find something. Like it would spring back to life and explain everything that was going on. Or maybe just tell her that everything was okay. The idea of the skeleton coming back to life made her shiver once more.

She turned her back on both the terminal and the skeleton and gazed up at the many dead monitors that lined the wall. It was hauntingly similar to the Administrator's office. Pauling took a step closer before running her fingers along the dented keyboard. She gently pushed the enter key, as if it would bring the place to life. It didn’t.

When she leant close to the screens, she could still smell the burnt out bulbs and singed plastic. But when she leant closer, she noticed something else behind the broken glass. Tentatively, she reached in, careful to avoid the glass shards. She gripped the embedded object with her thumb and forefinger and tugged it out. She held the copper bullet to her face.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Miss P muttered. A lump grew in her throat. “This isn’t-This isn’t fair.”

She threw the bullet to the floor. “This isn’t fair!”

It was too much. Miss Pauling turned on her heels and _click-clacked_ out of the useless room. The room that gave her more questions than answers. The room that was too much like the Administrator’s for her to bare.

Pauling wanted out. The walls were suddenly claustrophobic. She needed fresh air and daylight and people. It was too much.

Her legs carried her towards the exit, seemingly of their own accord. Up another, smaller set of stairs and out into a wide metallic room. Covering one wall was the great, gear-shaped vault door. It was four times Miss Pauling’s height and a few hundred times her weight. A yellow 0 had been printed in the centre of it.

To Miss Pauling’s relief, the terminals and control panel were active, spilling green into the oily grey room. She walked up to it only to trip on yet another skeleton.  She nudged the trench coat sporting skeleton aside with her foot and stepped up to the control panel.

In fluorescent green, the screen read “ _ACCESS DENIED_ ”. On the dashboard beside it was a black and blue screen. It took Miss Pauling a moment but she recognised the device, it was a biometric scanner. Had this been here when she came in? Maybe, the Administrator hadn’t exactly asked her to look around.

Miss Pauling placed her hand on the scanner. The console hummed as a white line analysed her hand. The terminal flickered, ” _ACCESS GRANTED_ ” appeared on the screen.

“Oh thank God.” Miss Pauling breathed.

An orange light flashed overhead. A mechanical arm swung down from the ceiling and connected itself to the vault door. With an ear piercing screech, the massive steel door was pulled free and rolled to the side.

Beyond the vault was the same dark cave Miss Pauling had travelled down at the Administrator’s request. The door had opened for her in just the same way.

A breeze swept over her face and tousled her hair. The air felt warm but far more welcoming to the staleness of the vault. It cleared her head. Outside she could find help, find out what happened. Miss Pauling readied her gun. If robots had attacked she’d be ready. She’d go find the mercs, find Saxton and the Administrator.

Outside she’d understand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know you all know how long Miss Pauling has been gone, I'm sorry


	3. Fresh Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that in the tf2 timeline, this au broke away from canon before the events of the comic series

Cool air rushed over Miss Pauling’s face.

After what felt like hours of stumbling around in a dark cave, Pauling found her exit. A slither of light at the end of the tunnel.

Now that she thought about it, the Administrator had a habit of hiding her bases in caves. They were out the way, dark and most people wouldn’t stay longer than necessary. Plus, the winding tunnels would throw anyone off, even Miss Pauling. She squeezed through the thin crevice and into the New Mexico desert.

From the high rocky walls were Pauling stood, she could see the lone strip of road leading to the town of Teufort. The sun hung low in the sky and stung at her light-deprived eyes, the flecks of cotton white clouds moved lazily across the sky. Far away Pauling could see the endless grey-blue sky meet a sandy brown horizon. Dead bushels and tanned red rocks dotted the land beyond Teufort, looking like mere dark splotches from where Miss P was standing. A swirl of smoke billowed in the distance, rising up from a much larger, dark splotch. Probably just a new pile of burning tires.

Miss Pauling looked around. If her moped was anything like her gun, it’d still be around. She’d parked in a nook. The nook had once been home to some kind of miner or hermit, furnished with a tin roof, stool and various tools. The Administrator assured that the hermit had since moved on.

By the time Miss Pauling found the nook, she realised that she’d overlooked it four times. It was bare, even the tin roof was gone. There was no trace of the moped

“Just my luck.” Miss Pauling muttered. It seemed that she’d have to settle for traveling on foot.

Walking in sand with kitten heels was hard enough, walking down a sandy hill in kitten heels was worse. Miss Pauling wasn’t phased, she’d run on worse.

 _Ten years_ , she thought. _Ten years for a body to decompose. Ten years for a moped to get stolen. Ten years later, where would the mercenaries be?_ Miss Pauling’s mind began to wander as she took off her heels and headed towards Teufort. _If they got decommissioned most of them would go home. That would mean Heavy’s in Russia, that’s no good. But Gray Mann was still a threat, he wouldn’t just leave. Ten years.._

Miss Pauling smirked to herself. _Maybe Scout would finally mature, he’d be 33... That’d also mean that Heavy and Medic are around their early 60s and Demoman and Soldier are getting there. Hmm._ Really they should have retired but it was unlikely that they would. After all, some mercenaries stayed together even after the grey hairs came through.

Pauling’s feet hit the warm tarmacked road leading to Teufort. The surface had baked a soft grey and seemed less looked after than she remembered it. There were defiantly more potholes and cracks. Miss Pauling was suddenly glad that she hadn’t ruined her wheels on this track.

After replacing her heels, Miss Pauling followed the road. She noticed that the “ _Welcome to Teufort_ ” sign was missing, then found it in the middle of the road several yards away. Ten years to fail to replace a sign. Something wasn’t right.

The assistant wandered into town, heading towards the town hall. She passed some shops without a glance and weaved through some crashed cars. _Wait, crashed cars?_

That’s when Miss Pauling noticed the quiet.

The town of Teufort stood still, in an unpleasant silence.

The buildings creaked as the wind whipped around them. Gunshots were carried on the breeze. The hairs on the back of Miss Pauling’s neck stood on end.

She stared up at the back of town hall with it’s broken windows and sunken roof. The pristine walls and pillars were chipped and charred. The white paint that used to mask the concrete as marble had peeled in the baking sun.

Miss Pauling picked up a new noise. She could hear tinny marching drums and a cheerful flute, some patriotic song. The sound was getting louder. The all-American music did not fit Miss Pauling’s mood.

Movement caught the corner of Pauling’s eye. She whirled and raised her gun. A round, metal object floated out from an alleyway and into the road. Several aerials blossomed from the backend of the sphere, a metal grate covered the front of it. As it buzzed closer, Miss P noticed various stickers slapped on the side of it: Bonk! Atomic Punch and DeGroot Rum were the only two she recognised.

The music faded out as the object came to a halt. Miss Pauling stared at it. It hovered four feet off the ground, within arms reach of her. She was about to make a move when the machine beat her to it.

“If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight!” A very familiar, static filled voice barked.

“Soldier?” Miss Pauling laughed in relief, “Soldier you would not believe how happy I am to hear you! I-wait how are you doing that?”

“Sun Tzu said that,” Soldier declared, “And I’d say he knows a little more about fighting than any of you maggots do because he invented it!”

“Soldier, I know ab- it’s me. It’s Miss Pauling.”

“Listen up you maggots! This fight will not result in victory if you do not sign up to fight immediately! If you have already signed up then go sign up again you lazy hippie!” The object floated impassively.

“What fight?”

“Dying for your country will be the greatest honour you maggots will ever receive! Sign up today!”

“What?”

“I bet you maggots have no clue who’s even talking to you. I’ve been fighting these tin cans since before you knew they even existed. I know how to-”

_CRACK_

_PING_

Soldier’s voice went out with a burst of static. The machine clattered to the ground with a trail of smoke and sparks.

Miss Pauling automatically dove for cover, ducking down behind a burnt out car. She stared at the machine as Soldier's voice spluttered incoherently from behind the static.

“Oh don’t be scared, little girl! We won’t hurt you!” Crowed a voice, followed by a shrill giggle.

_Little girl?! Who do they think they are?_

Whoever it was, they fired another round. It pinged off the car’s bodywork.

“Boss! We got a clean one!” Called another voice.

_CRACK_

_PING_

That bullet hit the bonnet.

To Miss Pauling’s surprise, smoke began to spill from the battered vehicle.

She glanced around for more cover. An alleyway? That would work.

_CRACK_

_PING_

The car was getting warm.

Miss Pauling made a break for the ally. Just in time for the car to explode, smoke mushrooming into the sky.

Pauling’s back hit the brick wall. A bullet had grazed her leg, laddering her tights and leaving sticky red blood in its wake.

A hand landed on Miss Pauling’s shoulder, “Got you, little girl.” Growled a voice.

Miss Pauling spun on her heels to face her attacker. He was skinny, pale and young, with deep bags under his bloodshot eyes. Strips of metal and leather were tied to him. His hand had dirtied her sleeve. Pauling glared at him.

“I am not a little girl.” She hissed before firing her gun, hitting the man between the eyes. Surprise crossed his face as he let go of her and dropped dead.

Miss Pauling surveyed her surroundings, then she crouched down. She was disappointed to find that the man only held a lead pipe and that his armour was practically falling apart. Pauling swore and sat up. It’d become quiet again.

When the assistant looked to her left she found that she was on the outskirts of Teufort. The large, smoke spilling splodge could be seen. It stood tall and crooked against the horizon. _Odd_ . Miss Pauling pushed up her glasses and squinted at it. _Doesn’t look like there’s a fire over there_.

“Pike! You lost the little bitch, didn’t you!” Barked a feminine voice from Miss Pauling’s right.

“She just slipped away! I didn’t see her! Rusty went after her but I heard a shot!” Came the same croaky voice who’d fired the first shot. Miss Pauling glanced down at ‘Rusty’, then back up towards the road.

“Where was the shot?”

Silence followed. Miss Pauling automatically looped her arms under ‘Rusty’s shoulders and backed up beside the building, holding her breath. She brushed against a wooden door and grabbed the handle without thinking. It creaked open, allowing Miss Pauling and the body to slip inside.

It was dark.

Thin slithers of light broke through the boarded up windows. Miss Pauling could see dust particles floating in the stale air. She was in some sort of storeroom for one of Teufort’s few shops. Except the wire shelves were bare and the crates were falling apart.

Miss Pauling dragged the corpse behind a crate and crouched the corner beside it. She made note of the two exits, the one she’d came through and the one leading to the shop floor. _What happened here?_

“You can’t hide forever.” Came a voice from outside.

Teufort, the fearful but resilient town, stood in shambles. She looked down at ‘Rusty’. _Are these the only people left? Just a bunch of creeps? Ten years. Where was the Mayor? The little old lady? Anybody?_

Not that Miss Pauling really cared about Teufort’s residents. Or perhaps it should be _previous residents_. They’d caused her enough grief over the years. As Pauling thought she dabbed at the bullet gaze on her calf. She winced, it stung but it was bearable. It’d be best if she could clean and bandage it.

Miss Pauling pulled at the crate beside the body and peered inside. Her eyes widened at the small stacks of $20 bills within. Both ‘Rusty’ and her wound were forgotten for a moment as Miss P grabbed the wads of cash. There must have been twenty stacks of twenty dollar bills. It wasn’t until then did Miss Pauling realise that she had no way of carrying it. She didn’t have a big enough pocket to carry her screwdriver, that was tucked into her belt.

“Rusty? Where’d the bitch go?”

Besides, money wouldn’t help her fight. Unless she could pay them to stop. That just might work.

“I’m gonna make you bleed all over your pretty clean clothes.”

Maybe not.

If there was a bag, then she could take more. Hell, she could carry everything she needed.

Pauling listened carefully, the people outside had apparently calmed down moved on. She crept through the beaded door curtain and cringed at the jangling sound they made.

She vaguely recognised the store, a small grocery. There was a faint sweet smell coupled with mothballs, which was how all of Teufort smelt normally. She peered over the counter to see that the shopfront was empty. Stuffed into the counter, Pauling found what she was looking for. A canvas messenger bag. She tugged it free and almost dropped it, it was a lot heavier than it looked. She unfastened the buckle and opened it.

_Bottle caps?_

Most of them were red with a yellow “B!” printed on top. _Bonk? No, that only comes in cans, not glasses._ The few blue bottle caps Miss P recognised as BLU beer.

Miss Pauling shook her head dismissively and upturned the bag, wincing again as they clattered on the lino flooring. She slipped back into the storeroom and began stuffing the bag full of cash. Twenty stacks. A lot of money. Maybe not enough money to hire mercenaries for more than a day but still, Miss Pauling could get by on it.

Next, priorities one and two; the wound and the body. Pauling looked around, ‘Rusty’ could probably fit in the now-empty crate... but there was no lid. Maybe if she shifted the crates and made some sort of cover. Miss Pauling pulled at another broken crate, she blinked in surprise when it thumped to the floor as if it was on raised ground. She looked at were the crate once was.

A hatch. A metal hatch in the ground. A cellar perhaps? That would be a good place to hide, either herself or that body. It was locked.

But Miss Pauling knew how to deal with that. She pulled out the screwdriver and plucked a bobby pin from her black hair. Picking locks was all part of her job, she wasn’t the best at it but this lock was easy. A few twists and hopeful jiggles later, the lock clicked in surrender.

Miss P hauled the hatch open with a creak and a sudden crunch. She was faced with yet another skeleton, it’s brittle hand had broken away from its body when Pauling had opened the door. The skeleton, disturbed of it’s resting place and missing a hand, tumbled down a set of old, wooden stairs. Miss Pauling stared after it. It was too dark to see the bottom of the staircase.

“Boss, she’s probably in one of the buildings.” The voices from outside returned.

At least nobody else had been through the hatch.

With no other choice, Miss Pauling looped her arms under ‘Rusty’s shoulders and dragged him into the hatch. She let go of him to reach out for the hatch door, only to groan internally as she heard the body slide down the stairs. _Why were corpses like this?_ She closed the hatch sharply and plunged herself into darkness. Real, pitch black darkness.

Miss Pauling swallowed and instinctively reached out for the handrail. She used it to crawl down the staircase, it creaked under her light weight.

After a while her eyes adjusted. She could make out the walls of the cellar, plus a few tables, chairs and wire shelves, these ones fully stocked. Miss Pauling considered searching them but decided against it; she didn’t want to risk knocking one over, her attackers could be right above her head. Instead, she felt around the ground. Her hand touched something cold and glass, with metal parts above and below it. _A lantern,_ she thought, _thank god for Teufort being old fashioned._

Miss Pauling’s mind flicked to the skeleton. _If this was theirs, they’d have matches, right?_ She reached around the foot of the stairs, looking for anything vaguely body-shaped in the darkness. Her hand landed on the back of ‘Rusty’, his body still semi-warm. She pulled him aside and heard the tell-tale rattling of bones. Pauling’s hand made contact with the weirdly smooth bones, she searched the pockets of its waistcoat and found what was looking for. A matchbox

She fumbled with the lantern, once she had pulled down the lever she took the matches. It took two strikes down the side of the box to light the match. In the tiny orange glow, Miss Pauling moved the flame under the glass and prayed for oil.

The wick lit, the room was bathed in a warm glow.

Miss Pauling lowered the glass and picked up the lantern.

One corner of the cellar stood out in particular. A wall had been knocked down and behind it was a tunnel. A hastily dug tunnel, by the looks of it, with lopsided, wooden planks for support. Miss P held her lantern in front of it, casting light as far as she could. It was heading east, toward that tire-burning pile.

A crash sounded from upstairs. Dust rained from the ceiling. Miss Pauling stepped into the tunnel, then pulled a crate in front of its entrance before following the path.

The tunnel was long. Soon, when Miss Pauling turned around all she should see was darkness. Either she’d travelled far or the lantern was dimming. _Do lanterns even dim?_

As time went on, the tunnel itself got more and more shoddy. At one point it was close to touching the top of Miss Pauling’s head. Anyone taller than herself (which was pretty much everyone) would be forced to duck or slouch. She couldn’t imagine someone like Heavy or even Demoman being able to comfortably pass through.

Finally, she reached the end and was met with a rusty metal ladder. Miss Pauling frowned and held the lantern above her head. At the top of the ladder was what appeared to be a manhole lid. Strange, this is no sewer.

Miss Pauling tested the ladder with one foot. It didn’t break away or even creak, but the top layer of paint did crumble and grate away under her shoe. She put the lantern down, then put her full weight on the bottom rung, then after a moment's adjustment, she began to climb.

The moment Miss Pauling pushed open the manhole, she received a face full of fine dirt. She spluttered, grateful for her glasses for once and tossed the manhole cover aside. She was outside.

Miss Pauling balanced herself on the lip of the manhole. The setting sun glared at her. Behind a pile of strategically placed rocks, Pauling could see the town of Teufort, roughly half a mile away. When she looked to the east she saw the _tire-burning pile_ , standing tall around five-hundred yards away.

Except the smoke was not billowing or black like she’d first thought. Close up, it looked more like steam or the smoke from a campfire, not a bonfire.

What she assumed to be mounds of tires was actually one great metal wall, spread out in a wide, lopsided circle. The walls were a bleached, almost white, blue. It was like some huge metal dome, in the middle of the New Mexico desert. It was hard to make out all the details with the sun in her face but Pauling was sure she could see more marking on it, around the base.

Miss Pauling stood and spared a glance back toward Teufort. There was no movement, no scruffy character running across the baked earth toward her. She looked down the hole she’d come from. After a moments thought, she replaced the cover and after some experimental shakes, she rolled one of the smaller, free rocks (which still came up to her thighs in height) atop the lid.

 _Now then_ , Miss Pauling adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and pulled out her revolver.

Five-hundred yards wouldn’t take that long to pass. Five-minutes? Less than that. Miss Pauling raised a hand to her forehead to block out the unforgiving sun.

The wind picked up, messing her hair and whipping at her skirt. Pauling held her free hand against her skirt to keep things decent while she picked up her pace. While the baked dirt was better to walk on than sand, her kitten heels still weren’t ideal. They’d get stuck in the deep cracks that scattered out in every direction, forcing Miss Pauling to tug them free without losing her footing. But she wouldn’t take them off; spiky plants were a big risk.

The wind blustered again and Miss Pauling huffed at it. She turned to the south as if she’d see where it was coming from. Her heart stopped when she did.

A dust cloud. Dirty beige and barreling towards her.

“Oh crap.” Miss Pauling said to herself. She took off toward the walls, she hadn’t been caught in many dust storms but she remembered being on her moped when one hit. She’d almost crashed. The walls would give shelter.

A memory bubbled to the front of Miss Pauling’s mind, of when the first dust storm hit a base with herself and the mercs in. She remembered the Europeans staring at it incredulously out the windows. She could almost hear Demoman complain that “ _A thing that bloody big has no right to be moving that bloody fast”._

Miss Pauling could feel the dirt in the air now. The wind howled and whistled. The sky dimmed, both due to the setting sun and the dust thrown up in the air.

In one step, the foot behind her didn’t lift. With the heel of her shoe jammed in a crack, Miss Pauling fell forward, landing rough on the packed-in dirt. Her glasses toppled to the floor.

“No!” Miss Pauling grabbed her glasses before they could be blown away. She held her messenger bag in front of her face, something she vaguely remembered Engineer telling her, and searched for her missing shoe. She squinted. Her eyes felt dry.

The sky dimmed more, the sun had turned the world a hellish red. Her shoe was two feet away. Just within arms reach. But it didn’t come easily. With a hard tug, it came free, but at the cost of a heel. Miss Pauling shoved it on her foot and stood, then crouched. She looked toward the walls then stumbled back when she made out two bulky, humanoid figures running towards her.

She raised her gun but with the wind she could barely hold it steady. The figures were bulky with squarish heads and unnaturally tall shoulders. _Robots_ , Miss Pauling thought.

To Miss Pauling’s surprise, they stopped a few feet away from her. She couldn’t make out many details in the darkness, expect from the headlamp one of them had, but they weren’t acting like robots. The one in front, weaponless, even held its hands up placatingly. The one behind wielded some two-handed weapon that Miss Pauling couldn’t distinguish.

The former took a step toward Miss Pauling, unaffected by the battering winds. Miss Pauling let her bag fall beside her and gripped her gun with two hands. Her vision was almost immediately obscured by dust and dirt. She fought back a choke and stood her ground.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.” The first robot said. Its voice was staticky like Soldier’s had been. Like it was coming through a radio.

 _Don’t come any closer_ , was what she wanted to say when the first figure stepped toward her again. Instead, she fired a shot, the round pinged off the shoulder robot's metallic physic. It glanced over its shoulder as if someone had simply nudged it.

The headlamp moved away and pointed toward the south.

“Look out.” Said a different, still staticky voice. Both Miss Pauling and the first robot looked toward the south. Miss Pauling turned just in time to see a metal panel, like a tea tray, fly toward her and hit her square on the head.

She didn’t even feel herself fall. All she saw before blacking out was the first robot surge towards her.

 


	4. Hired Guns

Her head was pounding.   
  
Had she been drinking all night? She’d promised the Administrator that she’d never do that again. Miss Pauling groaned and rubbed at her face. Her glasses were gone, her hair was down and she was tucked up under a scratchy blanket. Had she stumbled to a motel? What had…  
  
The robots.  
  
Miss Pauling’s eyes shot open but she squeezed them shut again almost instantly. Her eyes were burning, the antiseptic smell of the room invaded her senses.   
  
She tried to compose herself, to settle her breathing. From the glimpse of the room she’d seen, they’d been no other people around, no robots.   
  
People were talking softly in another room. Human voices, not robotic or static-filled. Miss Pauling strained her ears to listen over her throbbing headache.   
  
“She just seems more concerned with selling our supplies. I understand that we haven’t had a real battle in a long time but that’s no reason to stop stockpiling.” One voice said.  
  
“I get that but I heard that Fumes are pretty easy to make.” Another voice said.  
  
“Yet we can only make it raw. Inhalers aren’t made anymore. It doesn’t make any sense selling the portable stock.” The first voice replied.  
  
“I get it doc, I get it. I better go back on patrol. Call me if that girl wakes up.” There was a rhythmic clunking sound of heavy footsteps, then the creak and slam of a door.  
  
Miss Pauling forced her eyes open again, only a crack. The world around her was a blurry, painful cloud of brown and grey. Her eyes adjusted best they could without her glasses, she stared up at a mismatched ceiling.  
  
As Pauling returned to her senses, she began to piece together what had happened. Her situation was not a good one. At least those voices had been organic and not robotic, they seemed friendly enough. Well, more friendly than Teufort’s residents.   
  
She rolled her head to the side, careful not to shake up her headache, and looked around. Beside her was a small metal table. Miss Pauling reached out and found her glasses, neatly folded up. She put them on and her vision slid into focus.   
  
The room was spartan. There was a single metal table and chair adorned with shiny metal tools. Her messenger bag was safely stowed on the bedside table, alongside a battered book. A curtain covered the upper half of the door frame. The walls themselves seemed to be tin, it gave off a rustic, almost homely feel.   
  
Miss Pauling had to escape, that much she knew. She was extremely vulnerable here. In an unknown place with unknown people. Sure, she could fight or charm her way out, she’d done it before. But something about Teufort made her think it’d be harder than that.  
  
A flourish of a white coat scattered all logical thoughts in Miss Pauling’s head.  
  
“Medic?” Miss Pauling croaked, surprised by how hoarse her own voice was.  
  
The lab coat returned to the door frame, a hand raised up and pushed the curtain aside. It was not Medic. He was young and thin, with brown skin and dark hair pulled back in a bun. He wore a warm smile. Still labcoat-clad and wearing tall military boots but definitely not the German Medic.  
  
“Ah, you’re awake, good.” He said with an American accent. Miss Pauling pushed herself into the sitting position and watched the man carefully. “And you found your glasses, excellent.”  
  
When Miss Pauling didn’t respond, the man cleared his throat. “I’m Dr Austin, I’m the medic here. One of our soldiers brought you in. You got caught in a pretty mean Haboob. How are you feeling, miss…?”  
  
“Pauling.” Miss P said bluntly.  
  
“Well you talk, that’s something.” Dr Austin pulled up a chair and sat with his forearms resting on his thighs. “If you don’t mind me saying, Pauling, you look quite out of place. Where did you come from? My guess is a vault.”  
  
“Something like that.” Miss Pauling decided to play along. “Is it that obvious?”   
  
“I’m afraid so. You’re far cleaner than any other patient I’ve had today. Thankfully, the storm did little damage to you. You’re almost good to go.”   
  
Miss Pauling frowned, “Almost?”  
  
Dr Austin stood and moved towards the metal table, he picked up a hand mirror. “Well, first of all, I’d like you to see the damage yourself.” He handed the mirror to Miss Pauling. “Perhaps I can convince you to take a quick eye examination, just to make sure no sand has gotten in there.”  
  
“Maybe.” Miss Pauling grimaced at her own reflection. She looked the same way she had after her college's last big party. Dishevelled hair; bruised forehead; chapped lips and bags under her eyes. Okay, maybe she always had bags under her eyes but still.  
  
“Secondly, I’m going to need some form of payment. Unless you’re part of the Project. But if you’re from a vault then I guess you’re not.”   
  
Miss Pauling grimaced again. “How much?”   
  
“200.”  
  
Not as expensive as she was expecting, honestly.  
  
“Yeah, there should be enough in my bag.” She nodded to her satchel and regretted it. Fluid sloshed in her head and made her version swim. Pauling squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her fingertips against them.   
  
“These aren’t caps, Pauling.”  
  
Miss Pauling looked up. “Caps?”  
  
“Bottle caps.”   
  
Pauling’s eyes widened. Those bottle caps she poured onto the ground back in Teufort. “That’s your money?” She said before she could stop herself.  
  
Dr Austin shrugged. “Paper burns, metal doesn’t. It’s the same for everyone.”   
  
She covered her face again.   
  
“However, old money had its uses. I’d say that all of this would cover you.” The doctor continued, giving the bag a shake.  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
“One of these,” Dr Austin held up a wad of cash. “Is worth about.. 10 caps? Given that you can barter decently. And here you have… a number.”    
  
“Great.”  
  
“I’m sorry Pauling. I’ll let you keep your bag and gun. Maybe you could convince the local caravan to take you on. Earn some extra cash as a mercenary.”  
  
Miss Pauling wasn’t a big fan of irony. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, doc.”  
  
One eye exam and a stern ‘ _take it easy for a few days_ ’ later, Miss Pauling was discharged with a noticeably lighter bag. She pushed the metal door of the hospital open and stepped outside.  
  
Once her eyes had adjusted to the blinding morning sun, Miss Pauling could see the encampment. Everything was either bleached or tanned by the unforgiving light. Frayed and faded posters layered building’s walls, some of which were nothing more than rusted corrugated tin. The building's themselves varied in quality, some were crooked buildings when others were simply tents. Dirty cloth danced in the gentle breeze that also brought the smell of mud, rust and gunpowder. All around the camp were walls; dark grey and at least eight feet tall. Some people took shelter in the shadows that they provided.   
  
People. The first group of friendly people Miss Pauling had seen since escaping the Administrator's vault. To be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with people who weren’t mercenaries or people out to kill her. They leant against the great walls, a handful smoking. The rest milled around the camp. Some wore leathery hide while others only wore soiled cloth. A dozen wore some kind of uniform, almost like Soldier’s. With dark [blue or red] military tunics and holsters carrying weapons, mostly automatics, Miss Pauling noted.   
  
Everyone was everywhere, mingling or hiding from the sun. Children ran through. _When was the last time she’d seen a normal child?_  One woman yelled out to a child, telling them to come back, to not throw rocks at…   
  
A tank.   
  
A tank. Slumped over in the middle of the camp.  
  
One of Gray Mann’s bomb carriers. Its armour had become a blistered duck egg blue hiding coppery rust beneath. One of its caterpillar wheels was bent inwards, leaving the tank leaning to the left. The wheel was half buried in sticky mud that had not yet dried, the dampness allowing vine-like plants to crawl on the tank’s surface. People walked around it as though it wasn’t a highly explosive weapon capable of killing them all.   
  
Miss Pauling stepped toward it, standing under the shade of a metal gazebo. The tank was riddled with names. About a dozen of them, carved on the tank’s surface.   
  
She couldn’t read them all. She didn’t want to get any closer to try. As if the metal carcass would hum back to life. The rumbling and whirring and high pitch squeaking of the tank in motion was engraved into her memory. She’d lost count of how many tanks her mercs had destroyed.  
  
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she.” Came a voice.   
  
Miss Pauling looked over her shoulder and almost jumped out of her skin. There behind her was the robot from the sandstorm. With it’s bulky, squarish body and hinge-like joints. Expect this time it held it’s head under an arm, and in its place was a very much human face, speckled with freckles. The face frowned at Miss Pauling’s reaction.  
  
“Hey, don’t worry, it’s me. I’m the one who saved you.” She said.  
  
_Saved you?_ Automatically, Miss Pauling’s hand was on her gun. The robot person raised a hand.  
  
“I’m Captain Lily. I know what you think I am but I swear, I’m all flesh under here.” The Captain frowned, “Right, that sounds weird but…”   
  
Miss Pauling’s hand didn’t leave her weapon. She scrutinised the Captain. There was no unnatural shaking. No smokestacks coming from her back. Just a slightly sun burnt face and a pair of glinting blue eyes.   
  
After a moment's more hesitation, Miss Pauling let her hand fall away from her gun. “Sorry.” She said with a nervous smile. “So, what is all that?”   
  
Lily patted her chest, “Power armour. The best in the wastes.”  
  
_Wastes? As in wasteland?_ Miss Pauling frowned, to which Lily responded, “Right, you don’t know what this is, do you? Uh, it’s a suit of armour, that’s powered. Yeah.”  
  
“Oh wow, that’s pretty impressive.” Pauling did her best not to sounds sarcastic, she was genuinely impressed by the armour, the mercs could have really done with some battle armour. Not that they’d really care for armour, going by that one time Medic ran into battle shirtless. But, her mind was still on the wastes comment. Scout had called the Badlands a wasteland before, but he had grown up in an urban place, so it made sense coming from him.   
  
“Yeah yeah, the only things that can survive those storms. Apart from you of course.” When Miss Pauling didn’t respond Lily smiled and took a step forward, “Hey, I’m not surprised you thought I was a bot, pretty hard to see in those Haboobs, right?.” She extended a gloved hand, “No hard feelings.”  
  
“No hard feelings.” Miss Pauling echoed, giving the soldier’s hand a firm shake.  
  
“Anyways. The colonel wanted to see you.”  
  
“The colonel? Why?”  
  
“You’re the first vaultie we’ve seen in like, twenty years. We’re all pretty curious.”    
  
_Great_ , Miss Pauling thought. “What’s she gonna do to me?”  
  
Lily laughed, “Uhh, talk to you? We don’t do that dissecting thing anymore.” At Pauling’s alarmed expression she raised her hands, “Joking, joking. I’ll report to her now. For now well, welcome to the camp, enjoy your stay.”   
  
“Oh.” Pauling looked around. Some extra time before speaking to some form of the military was always appreciated. She’d need to formulate some kind of believable lie.   
  
“Food is that way, store’s over there, bar up that way and the colonel’s down there. But you’ll get the call when she wants to see you, so someone’ll take you down.”   
  
Pauling nodded, “Thank you.”   
  
“No problem. See you around, ma’am.” The Captain gave a small, two-fingered salute before stomping away.  
  
Miss Pauling cursed herself when she felt her cheeks burn and her heart flutter. Was she really that desperate for another girl to be nice to her? Although, in most cases it was almost as if someone had pre-decided that all women would oppose her. This was a nice change.   
  
She glanced around the shabby camp.   
  
_Where had that doctor said they were hiring?_  Pauling thought as she glanced around. She wasn’t exactly interested in being a mercenary, but some actual money would help. _There’s always the…’caps’ I left in Teufort._  She grimaced at the thought, _no not yet, best not to get killed. I need to be alive for the Administrator… Maybe I could hire someone._  Miss Pauling looked to where Lily had pointed out the store. That looked like a good starting place, especially since she didn’t know how these ‘caps’ worked.  
  
The store was a large, windowless building in the opposite direction of the tank, which was, for whatever reason: the centrepiece of the camp. Miss Pauling pushed on the metal door, made from a car bonnet, and stepped inside.  
  
Cold air hit Miss Pauling as she entered. The building opened out into one big room with a lopsided, wooden counter at the far end. Behind the counter was a middle-aged, balding man in grey overalls. Behind him was a curtained doorway.   
  
Two metal tables acted as display cases for various tat. An alarm clock; a broken wrench and a pair of rusted guns. Miss Pauling frowned at those, they hardly looked reliable and would probably break after firing a full round. _That’s what you get for buying guns with bottlecaps_ , she thought.  
  
“What can I interest you in ma’am?” The balding man asked from behind the counter. He looked Miss Pauling up and down. “Some armour?”  
  
“Well uh,” Pauling started as she approached the counter and peered over it. “Let’s see what you have.”   
  
“Depends how many caps you have, I’ve got this old set of leathers for 150.”  
  
“Is this everything you have?”  
  
“Are you complaining? Show me your caps.”  
  
Miss Pauling chewed the inside of her lip, “Actually, I was wondering if you had any work.”   
  
“For who? You?” The man chuckled, “Sorry little girl, don’t wanna waste my time with someone who’s gonna get killed in an instant.”  
  
_Little girl_. Pauling fumed internally but tried again, “You don’t know what I can do. Your jobs can’t be as dangerous as my... Other jobs.”   
  
“Yeah, right.” He thumbed his nose, “So what, you want me to offer you some… scouting mission? Guess you’ll be wanting me to give you some extra ammo before you go, right?”  
  
“I_”  
  
“I’ve served your type before.” He leant forward on his counter. “You don’t have any caps, do you?”  
  
_No respect._ Miss Pauling realised that she had balled her fists and squared her jaw.   
  
“I don’t serve freeloaders. And I don’t wanna buy your junk neither. Johan, get her out of here.” The man waved his hand at Pauling with a sneer.  
  
“She’s not threatening you.” Came a voice from behind Pauling. She stepped back to address the other man in the room. Johan was leant against the wall next to the door. He glanced between the merchant and Miss Pauling with dark, tired eyes. At his slouched height he was barely taller than Pauling herself.   
  
“I hired you to do what I say.” The merchant snapped. He pointed at Johan. “Just do your job!”  
  
“You hired me to protect your store. She’s not doing any harm.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m just window shopping.” Miss Pauling added.  
  
The merchant momentarily broke away from his angry state. “You’re _what_?”  
  
“If you really want me to get rid of potential customers, well that’s on you pal.”  
  
“She can come back when she’s got caps.”   
  
“Fine.” Johan pushed himself off the wall, revealing that he was an inch or two taller than Pauling. Minus a mop of black, messy, hair.   
  
“What?! You can’t just kick me out!” Miss Pauling shouted.  
  
“Sorry.” Before Pauling could reach for her gun, Johan had looped an arm under her shoulder and tugged her out of the store.   
  
Miss Pauling pulled away from him the moment they were outside and levelled her gun with him, just as a warning. Johan a holstered shotgun but didn’t aim it at her. “Trust me lady, I know which one of these hurts more.”  
  
“So do I.” Pauling said, lowering her gun. “Just don’t do that.”   
  
Johan nodded, he glanced down at the ground. “Listen, I shouldn’t do this but here.” He reached to his belt and unhooked a small burlap sack that jangled when he tossed it towards Miss Pauling. She caught it in one hand. “It’s not enough to buy those leathers, but it’s something. He’ll cool off in an hour or so.”  
  
Miss Pauling looked down at the sack. She bit back a retort on not needing handouts and instead said “Thank you.” for the second time that day.  
  
“No problem,” Johan said. With a nod, he opened the store door and walked back inside. Miss Pauling swore she heard a muffled ‘ _Happy now?_ ’.  
  
The bar was the next closest that Miss Pauling could remember. It too was a shabby metal building, unlike the store, it had grates for windows.  
  
Low chatter floated out from the bar even before Miss Pauling had opened the door. The last time she’d been surrounded by so many people was on a mission, and they were attacking her, and she was running from them. It was a nice change.  
  
A dim light flickered overhead, but the light from outside was enough to illuminate the room. The ‘bar’ itself was a botched collection of random pieces of wood. Two people stood behind it, chatting as they cleaned some glasses. One nodded to Miss Pauling as the door closed behind her.  
  
“What can I get you?” They asked.  
  
“Just a water, please.”  
  
They laughed, “ _Just_ a water, sure. 20 caps for the clean stuff.”  
  
Miss Pauling decided against arguing. She handed over the caps and took the water, which was canned, for some reason.   
  
As she was putting her water into her bag, a man in the corner of the bar caught her eye with a wave. Tinted goggles covered his eyes and a beret covered his head. Miss Pauling recognised the pale blue cameo he wore but couldn’t for the life of her place it. He waved to her again.  
  
Cautiously, Miss Pauling approached him. He smirked, “You’re not from around here, are you?”  
  
“Why are you asking?” Miss Pauling retorted, folding her arms.  
  
The man’s smirk got bigger, “Well now, I’m looking for somebody, not from around here, to do a job for me. It pays well. Interested?”  
  
Pauling frowned, “What is it?”  
  
“First let me ask you this.” The man leant back in his seat, “Are you attached to this town in any way?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good. I can see that the Colonel hasn’t gotten to you yet. How would you feel if this place was wiped from the map? Would it really make a difference to your life?”  
  
Miss Pauling glanced over her shoulder on instinct. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“There’s a bomb in this town, my girl. It’s been here for a long time and nobody has ever thought it disarm it. All we need is one… _unattached person_  to rig it to explode. They can even come to the station to watch the fireworks. How does that sound?”  
  
Pauling thought for a moment, “But there are kids here.”  
  
“The offer’s on the table girl, sleep on it.” He glanced behind her as the door of bar creaked open, “Oh and, do yourself a favour and don’t mention this conversation to anyone, understand?”  
  
“Is that a threat?” Miss Pauling hissed.  
  
“It might be, we Classics don’t forget the ones who crossed us.”  
  
_Classics_. Now Miss Pauling recognised the uniform. The Classics. The team that her mercs had replaced. This was bad news. According to the administrator, they’d gone rogue after they lost their jobs, taking on shady contract after shady contract. Of course they wouldn’t care about killing children. She’d read their scout’s file, it made her Scout seem like a gentleman.  
  
She scrutinised the man. Tinted goggles were a trend in the Classics, but other than that the man shared no resemblance to any of the men on the team.  Hell, his hair still had colour.   
  
Wait, _how_ long had she been away. _Ten years? Twenty?_ There was no way that the Classics would still be alive. Even if they were, they wouldn’t be active. Maybe that’s why they want an ‘unattached person’. They’re probably held up in their old people homes, having their_  
  
“Pauline?” Came a voice from the door.   
  
Miss Pauling turned away from the Classic to face Captain Lily. She felt a small smile pull at her lips, “Actually it’s Pauling; Miss Pauling.”  
  
The Captain’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as she nodded. “Miss Pauling. The Colonel will see you.” With a last glance at the Classic, Lily turned on her heel and left the bar.  
  
Miss Pauling did not bother to look back at the Classic. She didn’t want anything to do with him. She considered telling Lily about his proposal, but she considered her vulnerable position and changed her mind.  
  
Outside the bar, the Captain stepped in front of Pauling and beckoned her to follow. Her armour clanked and hissed with each step. _Not the stealthiest equipment_ , Miss Pauling mused as she followed behind, _And not something Spy would ever use. Looks like it could take a beating though, can a bullet even get through it?_  
  
Miss Pauling was led to the back of the camp, where the shadows of the walls were the tallest. The structure of the buildings had changed from rickety scrap to steel and brick. No longer hand build, but still small, rusted and battered, just less likely to creak or fall down. Among the building stood large, canvas tents, military grade, with metal doors and cement on the ground. Miss Pauling couldn’t get a good look at them, but she could guess that they were patches on the roofs.  
  
Lily came to a halt in front of one steel building and checked over her shoulder for Miss Pauling. Satisfied, she knocked and waited. A voice permitted her entry. The captain opened the door and marched into the centre of the room.  
  
“Ma’am, Captain Lily reports. That vaultie is awake, she’s here.”   
  
Miss Pauling waited in the doorway. The building felt cool compared to the desert heat outside. The room was barely big enough for one desk and a few file cabinets, plus for the suit of power armour to stand without knocking anything over. An electric bulb buzzed overhead.   
  
“Ah, let’s see her then.” Lily stepped aside and nodded to Pauling.   
  
Behind the desk sat the Colonel. A broad-shouldered, blonde haired woman. She smiled at Miss Pauling and stood. “Hello, miss. What is your name?”  
  
“Pauling.” Miss P answered, unconsciously bringing her hands together in front of her. “I-N-G.”  
  
“Pauling,” The Colonel parroted. She thrust a hand out, “I’m Colonel Alexandria, you can call me Alex.”   
  
Miss Pauling stepped into the room and took Alexandria’s hand, who shook it firmly. “Take a seat please, and we’ll set you on your way.” She gestured to a plastic chair. “Captain, please wait outside.”   
  
The Captain stomped out of the room as Miss Pauling sat down, “What do you mean, _send me on my way_?”  
  
Alexandria sat down again. She took a pen and opened a folder. “Well unless you’re wanting to stay with us, I’ll be hoping to get you supplied so you can actually survive out there. Was that p-A-U-l-i-n-g.”   
  
“Y-yes. Wait, you’re giving me stuff?”  
  
“Well, not me. I’d like to but I can’t.” The Colonel scribbled Pauling’s name in the corner of the folder. Miss Pauling frowned internally. “You’re from a vault, right? Deep underground shelters with those gear shaped doors?”  
  
“Yes.” Miss Pauling watched the Colonel check a box on a form in the folder.   
  
“What number was that?”   
  
Miss Pauling frowned, externally this time. “Zero.”  
  
Alexandria looked up at Pauling. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Positive.”  
  
“Alright, where’s the rest of the vault’s population?”  
  
Rest of the.. _Oh no_. Miss Pauling grimaced. She remembered what the Administrator had told her not even a day ago. _Engineer wanted to use the vaults for the public. So the robots had won. And Engineer had won the Admin over. How many were there?_  “They.. Uh..”  
  
The Colonel studied Pauling expression with dark green eyes. She sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. Do you know what killed them?”   
  
“Um… Robots!”   
  
Alexandria frowned and scribbled on the form. “I thought we’d gotten the last of those. Which way did you come from?”  
  
“Towards Teufort but uh, not near that rocky, cavey area. Away from that. Far away.”  
  
The Colonel nodded, “ _Far away_.” She put the pen down and scanned over the form. “Well Miss Pauling, I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why you’re not in uniform?”   
  
“Yes. This, this was in the vault.”  
  
She looked Miss Pauling up and down, “Not something I’d wear but it beats soiled clothes.” The Colonel stood. “Now, Pauling. Welcome, to Camp Archimedes. I hope you enjoy your stay, we have_”  
  
“Hold on, Camp Archimedes?”   
  
“Yes.” Alex answered slowly. “We were founded before the great war.”   
  
Miss Pauling leant back in her seat. “Who are you? And what war?”  
  
“The war against Gray Mann.” The Colonel said with the patience of death. “And we are Motherland. Before the war, we were Project Oktoberfest, in case you were wondering why we’re sometimes called The Project.”  
  
“Oh no.” Miss Pauling muttered before she could stop herself. “When was this? Are your founders this big Russian guy and this other German guy. If so could you please tell me where they are?”  The last thing she needed was Heavy and Medic owning a small army. Well, Heavy was okay, just not Medic.  
  
Alexandria's face darkened. Pauling could hear the carefulness in her voice, “I couldn’t tell you. The war was two hundred years ago.”  
  
“Two..” Miss Pauling licked her lips and chuckled, “Could you repeat that?”   
  
“Two. Hundred. Years.” The words came slowly but struck Miss Pauling in the stomach.   
  
“No.” She breathed.  
  
The Colonel back in her seat, “A German and a Russian, you say?” She stood, “That can’t be a coincidence. What do you know, Miss Pauling?”  
  
“Nothing! I-I..”  
  
“Miss Pauling.” She raised her voice, “Who _are_ you?”  
  
“I… Oh God..” Miss Pauling pushed away from the desk. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Miss Pauling, I’m going to have to detain you. Please do not resist.”  
  
“No!” Pauling backed up to the door. “I don’t understand, why would she do this to me?”  
  
“Who? Miss Pauling, _who_ are you talking about.” The Colonel rounded the desk. “Miss Pauling! Stop! Captain!”  
  
Miss Pauling burst out of the building only to run into the Captain’s metal, chest. Large, cold, arms closed around Pauling smaller frame.   
  
“No no no, wait!” Miss Pauling racked her mind in desperation, looking for some way to free herself. “The Classics… they.”  
  
“Captain. Do not harm her.” The Colonel stepped out into the midday sun, “Miss Pauling, please try to understand. You will not be hurt. You need to come with us.”  
  
“Two hundred years, that can’t be right.” Pauling whispered to no one in particular.  
  
The Captain loosened her grip. “What’s she talking about?”  
  
“She knows things. Get her to the detention rooms, but do not allow her to be harmed.” She looked down at Miss Pauling. “Don’t panic ma’am, please.”  
  
Miss Pauling heaved a defeated sigh, she could feel her hands begin to shake and her eyes burn with tears. Confused and aggrieved, she allowed herself to be led away.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly a lot of new characters woah  
> Also yes I was going for a Megaton feel


End file.
